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Ingrid Von Malhaven's Undead Horde
Deck List The enemy deck may contain: (See Enemy Deck for more information.) Alphabetical Table Transcript "I know what you're planning, Katrina," Ingrid said. "Your schemes haven't fooled me." "Oh?" Katrina replied. Her crimson lips curved into a smile that reminded Ingrid of a scimitar's edge. "And vat of it? Do you expect me to buy your silence vith sweetmeats? Perhaps a new dress?" Ingrid glared. "Or a doll? Do little girls still like to play vith dolls? It's been so long since I vas your age..." Ingrid's eyes flashed. Pupils, irises, and whites disappeared beneath a blood-red glow. She hissed. Her mouth opened wide like a striking serpent's, displaying the full length of her fangs. Katrina laughed. The younger vampire closed her mouth and snarled. The redness left her eyes. "I know what you're doing!" she said. The words sounded childish and petulant, even to her own ear. "I've heard the whispers. You're plotting against the markgarf. And you're bringing in outsiders to help you." "Vhen you grow up, little girl, you'll learn that there are alvays plots and schemes in this castle. They do not concern you." "Markgraf Otto is my grandfather! I won't allow-" "Ha! His son vas a degenerate. You're just the poor little girl he preyed upon before ve put a stake through his heart to end his depravity. Ve let you live out of pity. But my pity vears thin. Remember that." Katrina turned around, sending her skirts billowing in a crimson cloud, and strode away. Ingrid glared at her departing figure -- the lithe, curvaceous, womanly figure that seemed to mock her as surely as the vampire's words had. Ingrid's gaze fell downwards onto her own flat chest, which the tailored bodice did little to enhance. The dress she wore was that of an adult, but the body it adorned was a child's. It had been a child's for the past fifty years, and would remain that way for fifty or five hundred more. She screamed. And even the echoes rang with mockery. The ancient stone and oak deemed her ridiculous, her existence absurd. An old mind, at least by human standards if not vampiric ones, trapped in a frame that had never known even the cusp of womanhood... Katrina's laugther floated back through the gloom and shadows of the passageway. "Bitch! Whore!" Ingrid screamed. She bit her lip, piercing flesh with fangs and curtailing the torrent of profanities which threatened to follow. They would only make her seem more foolish. There were already too many in the castle who thought little of her, who tolerated her presence only because the markgraf did. Even the von Malhavens' human servants spoke of her as a child when they believed their voices wouldn't reach her ears. Ingrid walked down the corridor. For all her vampiric grace, her stride felt ungainly compared to the fresh, burning, insulting memory -- the elegance of Katrina's long legs as they sauntered away from her. The vampire's fangs dug deeper into her lip. She had to feed... The beating of a heart... Ingrid heard it while it was still distant. She quickened her pace, and met the cobbler's boy as he mounted a staircase, clutching a pair of riding boots. He started. Fright flickered across his face before being submerged. "M... milady..." he murmured. He bowed his head in a short, sharp motion that made him look like a chicken. His eyes never left her. The boots rose up in front of him like a shield. Ingrid frowned. Fear pleased her. But there was more than fear in the youth's eyes. "I want..." She paused. As much as she despised Katrina, the beautiful vampire made mortals quiver and yearn for her crimson kiss... "I vant you," she said, slipping into her kinswoman's old-fashioned Stromhamren accent. "In my chambers." She smiled the coquettish smile that graced her rival's countenance when she wished to allure and seduce, and batted her eyelids. But the young man didn't swoon, or gaze at her with longing in his eyes. Instead he shivered, as though her smile were a manticore's. "I...I have to... I..." The boy brandished the boots before her, as a cleric might brandish a holy talisman. "Your blood vill slake my thirst!" "No!" "Come!" Ingrid darted towards him, fangs bared. The boy screamed. He fell against the wall and cowered, holding the boots against his neck. "Ingrid!" The sharp, commanding voice made her whirl round. She hissed, and brandished clawed fingers like a feral cat defending its meal. Heinrich von Malhaven stood in the middle of the corridor. His arms were crossed over his broad chest. There was a sneer on his pale, handsome features. "I..." Ingrid began. The rage drained away from her. Her cheeks reddened. There was just enough blood left from her last feeding to paint embarrassment onto her face. "I believe those are mine?" Heinrich said, glancing at the trembling boy. "Y... yes, milord!" The vampire gestured. The youth approached him with a slow, hesitating steps -- pressing himself close to the wall until he was well past Ingrid. Heinrich took the boots from his shaking hands. "Splendid work," he said. "As always." He clutched the riding boots in one hand. The other went to his belt. When it returned, a coin glimmered between his fingers. He pressed it into the boy's palm, but it fell from his twitching grasp. Heinrich snatched it from the air before it reached the ground. This time he slipped it into the young man's pouch. "You may leave," he said. The cobbler's boy murmured unintelligible words of gratitude, turned, pressed himself close to the wall once more, and rushed towards the staircase. From the sound of his footfalls, he descended them at least three at a time -- and fell one on the way. "If you want blood," Heinrish said, "have them bring you a goblet from the kitchens." Ingrid didn't reply. She didn't even meet his gaze. She just looked down at her dress. "The markgraf allowed you to escape punishment once. He won't again." Heinrish glided away. Ingrid glowered at his back. That reminder of her past indiscretion made her cheeks flush even redder. "Accept my kiss, mortal..." "What?" "I thirst for you..." "Get away from me! You're just a girl! A girl!" The handsome manservant, whore blood had fed many of the von Malhaven women over the years, tried to shove Ingrid off him. She wanted to seduce him, but he felt nothing but disgust --- as though she were an amorous child, instead of a vampire twice his age. In her rage she tore his throat out. Only Markgraf Otto's intervention had saved her from being slain by Grafin Astrid and the castle's other vengful females. Ingrid bit at the inside of her cheek, tearing her own flesh in a burst of shame and fury. Damn them! She'd show them that she was no child... Katrina had laughed at her, but Ingrid knew she'd been right. Katrina had allies beyond the castle walls, whose coming would help her upset the balance of power within the von Malhaven family. Unless Ingrid killed them first, and proved her worth by spilling the blood of the markgraf's enemies... Katrina, Heinrish, Astrid, and the others may have chosen to treat her with contempt. But the minions would obey her. She was a von Malhaven, after all... Overall Reward Category:Mega Brawl